Me: I don't want a long engagement. Can you imagine how crazy it'd be to plan a wedding over the school year?
Lu: Yeah, and it's not like we'd be able to save a lot more money if we waited until next year.
Me: Besides, all the big decisions have to be made in the next few months anyway.
Lu: True, and I really want to start our life together. Being engaged is fun, but it's not exactly the end goal.
Me: But if we get married too soon, everyone's going to think I'm pregnant.
Lu: We'll just tell them we're celibate.... They'll understand!
Even though Lu was joking, there's definitely some truth to his statement. Although there are fewer shotgun weddings than there used to be -- a combination of both lower failure rates for birth control and a greater acceptance of unwed mothers -- it's pretty much understood that everyone is having sex. Even if two people aren't in love or even in a relationship, there's the assumption that a man and a woman who are attracted to each other are sleeping together.
This isn't the case. Lu and I aren't virgins, but both of us decided that sex is something that should be saved for marriage. I used to feel odd about our celibacy. I'm a very outspoken person about my relationship with Lu and my life in general. However, when it came to the topic of sex, I was always very careful how I mentioned our sex life, or lack thereof.
I found myself rambling off a list of ready-made excuses as to why we weren't sleeping together, "It's not that we're not attracted to each other, but we're just kinda saving ourselves for marriage because, um, that's what you're supposed to do as a Christian. You know, you go to church, right? They always say that.... And it's not like it's absolutely horrible to wait. We still kiss and hold each other and stuff. It can be tough sometimes, but I think this will make our relationship stronger because, um, it just shows our love is deeper than sex. You know?.... Yeah, we're celibate."
In the beginning of our relationship, this awkward speech was partly to convince myself that celibacy actually was okay. That is was normal and good for our closeness and romantic gestures to actually come from a place of love, instead of a haze of lust. In theory, it was definitely the way to go. In practice, there were times when I could identify with Jill Scott's "Celibacy Blues" more than I ever thought I would.
Sure enough, as our relationship has progressed, celibacy truly has helped us in a number of ways.
For instance, communication. When we argue, we can't just hop in the sack to make it all better. We actually have to talk out what's bothering us until we solve the problem. Crazy thought, huh?
Then there's the romance factor that I mentioned earlier. He brings me fresh flowers almost every week, I'll massage his shoulders after a rough day, and we have candlelit dinners because we truly enjoy each other -- not because there's an expectation that it's going to lead to the bedroom.
Most importantly, I know that our connection isn't just based off of infatuation or pheromones. Once our bodies physically start to change, our deeper attraction will remain.
Obviously, I've gotten more comfortable and more bold discussing my celibate relationship. I've found out that -- surprise, surprise -- we're not the only ones. Ironically (or not), most of my friends in happy relationships and marriages are/were celibate, and the ones with the most drama are having the "best sex ever." I've fallen into that trap before, too. Great sex does not equal a great relationship! In fact, sleeping with someone too soon can ruin the potential for something special.
This isn't to totally discount love-making. I certainly look forward to the day when sex will enhance our marriage. As one newlywed friend said, "Marriage is hard work, but it's beautiful. Even more beautiful when you built the relationship not based on the physical. But trust, the physical aspects are definitely the icing on the cake!"
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